


Blazing Blue

by faeriefirefly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18OI AU Week 2019: Day 5, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, As it should be, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, Vicchan Lives, Vicchan will always live if I can help it!, alternate sochi banquet, and the morning after...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriefirefly/pseuds/faeriefirefly
Summary: Written for the 18+!!! on ICE Discord Server AU Week: Day 5 - SoulmatesYuuri didn’t glow very often. He’d thought he may never glow again, at least not with the blue radiance of happiness instead of the muted dim of anxiety and sadness. To say he was confused when he woke the morning after the banquet to blue blazing bright behind his eyelids would be an understatement. He slowly became more aware, registering the pounding in his head, the rush of blood in his ears, the smell of unfamiliar cologne, the dry taste of death in his mouth, and the feel of an arm draped over his waist. His head and hand felt like they were resting on a naked, decidedly male chest; that explained the glow he could see even with his eyes closed.What on Earth did I get myself into last night?





	Blazing Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to my very own soulmate [Dedica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dedica/pseuds/Dedica) for brainstorming help, cheerleading and beta reading. And of course, a big thank you to all my writer/reader friends on the [18+!!! on ICE](https://discordapp.com/invite/jRXfSXc) discord server for their encouragement, always, and the brilliant idea and tropes for AU week! 
> 
> This was the first fic I wrote for AU week. An alternate banquet idea had been floating around half-formed for a while until I saw the prompt and it suddenly coalesced - I'd never seen this particular soulmate trope before and it was ready and raring to be written. Then, I accidentally deleted the first version of this fic after I finished writing and almost cried. I still don't think this version is quite as good-I think it lost some of the magic and phrasing that I just couldn't get quite as perfect as the first go draft-but I'm still quite happy with it. I hope you enjoy it as well!

Katsuki Yuuri didn’t glow very often. His glow was beautiful, as most everyone’s was, an azure light emanating from his skin whenever he touched someone skin to skin. Blue ran in the family (which wasn’t always the case; maybe it had something to do with the onsen, he wasn’t quite sure) and his _okaasan_ ’s blue-violet, his _otousan_ ’s cerulean, and Mari _-nee_ ’s midnight blue, almost indigo, were all shades of his favorite color. Blue evoked memories of home, of calm and comfort, strength and support, and he surrounded himself in it as much as he could.

Still, Yuuri didn’t glow much, because he’d never particularly liked to touch or be touched. Not at home in Hasetsu, especially not when he’d left at the tender age of eighteen to train under a new coach in a new country, where people touched far too much for his Japanese sensibilities. Certainly not now, when he’d crashed and burned at what was supposed to have been the pinnacle of his career thus far, where he’d finally, _finally_ gotten to skate on the same ice as his idol at the Grand Prix Final.

Viktor Nikiforov’s glow was a lovely petal pink, illustrated in photos of him with family and friends and fans, in magazine articles and television interviews and thousands of social media posts. Yuuri had wondered what it would look like in person, only to discover it was even prettier than he’d imagined when he witnessed Viktor hugging his coach after his own gold-medal-winning free skate, Coach Feltsman’s hand gripping the back of Victor’s neck for a moment. Yuuri’s own free skate was a disaster, marred by fall after fall. He’d blown his opportunity to show Viktor what he was made of, how much the older skater had inspired him, to meet Viktor on the ice as his equal. Yuuri’s admiration (adoration, if he was being honest with himself) mocked him, haunted him, just like the words “Commemorative photo?” still ringing in his ears two days later. Viktor hadn’t even known who he was, clearly thought he was just a fan, and Yuuri could do nothing but walk away in defeat. All because he was mentally weak.

He couldn’t pull himself together when he’d received bad news from home. Not even terrible news: his dog, Vicchan, had been hit by a car in a freak accident and had to have emergency surgery. Vicchan had pulled through and was in recovery, but unfortunately, Yuuri hadn’t known if he would make it until after he skated. The worries and what-ifs had weighed him down, bringing his usual performance anxiety to new heights. The what-ifs were particularly insidious, reflecting his guilt over not visiting home for almost five years and the knowledge that Vicchan missed him the entire time, sporadic Skype sessions not something his pup really understood. _What if I never see him again? What if he dies and I’m not there for him? What if we don’t get to say goodbye?_ The questions had chased each other through his mind, each worry seeming to spawn ten more, culminating in a cyclone that had sucked him under. His dreams had been dashed, along with the smallest, most secret of his hopes.

He’d always been drawn to Viktor, ever since he saw him skating on the grainy TV at Ice Castle. He knew it was unlikely, the chances infinitesimal, but he had quietly entertained the hope that it was because Viktor was his soulmate. He’d imagined meeting Viktor on the ice, standing on the podium with him, maybe even above him, and when they shook hands to congratulate each other, their glows would swirl and merge, forming a new shade. Viktor would look between him and his hand with wide eyes. Yuuri would say something smart to break the tension, and Viktor would laugh. They’d head off the ice together, hand in hand, and find somewhere more private to talk and touch and admire their new, shared glow.

But that didn’t matter now. Nothing much mattered now that he’d disgraced his coach, his country, and most importantly, his family. All the time he’d been away, all the money they’d spent to help him get to this point, all his own literal blood, sweat and tears (not to mention the bruises), were for nothing. He’d wanted to go home, to finally see his family and Vicchan and lick his wounds in peace for a few days until he had to go back to Detroit, but his coach had insisted he make an appearance at the banquet. He’d stood in front of a table and drank a glass or two of champagne (or five, maybe, and on an empty stomach because the thought of food on top of the knot of anxiety in his gut made him nauseous) to take the edge off his social awkwardness.

So Yuuri didn’t glow very often. He’d thought he may never glow again, at least not with the blue radiance of happiness instead of the muted dim of anxiety and sadness. To say he was confused when he woke the morning after the banquet to blue blazing bright behind his eyelids would be an understatement. He slowly became more aware, registering the pounding in his head, the rush of blood in his ears, the smell of unfamiliar cologne, the dry taste of death in his mouth, and the feel of an arm draped over his waist. His head and hand felt like they were resting on a naked, decidedly male chest; that explained the glow he could see even with his eyes closed. _What on Earth did I get myself into last night?_ He couldn’t remember much beyond the fizzy feeling of champagne, but he’d ended up in a bed with someone, somewhere, somehow.

Well, he wasn’t going to get any answers just lying there, pretending to be asleep. He cracked open an eye to hopefully take a peek at the face belonging to the chest he was snuggled up against, but his gaze was caught by his hand glowing a soft shade of violet he’d never seen before. Yuuri gasped, spreading the fingers of his hand against the well-muscled chest, watching the pretty purple swirling up his arm, melting into his own blue. The color was echoed on the chest, radiating out in a sunburst pattern from his hand, feathering into a familiar, precious pink. _No._

 _Nonononono._ He pressed his hand firmly against the chest then, pushing himself up to look into the sleepily blinking eyes of the one and only Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor was blurry without his glasses, but that glow, those eyes, the hair, were all unmistakable. Yuuri screeched and scrambled back, falling off the bed in his panic. He lay there, squeezing his eyes shut against the pounding in his head, feeling every one of the bruises that littered his hips and backside. This had to be a hallucination, a side effect of his hideous hangover. He might’ve even liked it had he known it was coming. _Maybe I should get drunk more often…_

The sheets rustled and the bed creaked, followed by a voice, Russian-accented English tinged with worry. “Yuuri, _solnyshko_ , are you okay?”

 _Oh my God, he sounds even sexier in person,_ flitted through his head before he reminded himself that this wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear it of the madness, wincing in pain as the motion intensified his headache.

“No? What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

His eyes popped open as a hand trailed through his hair, caressed his cheek. Viktor was squatting next to him, looking down in concern. He could see the faintest of bags under piercing blue eyes and silver hair sticking up every which way in the back. The hallucination was so realistic, even if clad only in a pair of black bikini briefs.

“Yuuri, do you think you can get up? Let me help you”

Hands gripped his, pulling him into a sitting position, then up into strong arms. Soft pink suffused Viktor’s skin, nearly all of it on display for Yuuri’s eyes, which kept getting caught wherever violet sparked. Viktor’s glow had dimmed a bit from earlier but was still brighter than he’d ever seen it in photos, or even in person after his win the other day. Viktor guided him back to the bed, gently pushing him down to sit on the edge when the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Yuuri couldn’t stop staring at their hands, still joined, still emitting that violet glow.

One hand came free as Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s jaw, tilting his chin up until bleary brown eyes met bright blue. “Yuuri, are you ok? Do you need to see a trainer, maybe a doctor?”

Yuuri lashes fluttered as he stared into Viktor’s eyes for a moment, catching a hint of the glow of Viktor’s hand against his face, before his gaze was drawn back to their joined hands. The hallucination looked too real, sounded too real, _felt_ too real. The pain he’d felt falling off the bed was certainly real. Plus, he’d never imagined Viktor with bed head before, or anything outside his usual polished perfection. Though the lack of clothing… _Don’t think about that now, Yuuri._ But was it possible? He stared dazedly at Viktor’s fingers twined with his, the unfamiliar light lazily undulating on his arm.

Viktor muttered something that sounded like a curse in Russian. He knelt, withdrawing his hands, only for them to cup Yuuri’s cheeks and slide into his hair, gently stroking his scalp all over, as if feeling for bumps. “Yuuri, sweetheart, do you think you hit your head?”

Yuuri blinked slowly as he registered the question. “Did I— N-no, I don’t think so.”

“Good! Good. Let’s get you back into bed. I’ll get you some water, and you could probably use something for a headache, _da_?”

Yuuri nodded numbly and let Viktor coax him up the bed until he was sitting propped against the headboard. Viktor left the room, presumably in search of water and painkillers. He felt around for his glasses, thankfully finding them intact on the nightstand, and slipped them on his face, squinting against the morning light trickling in through the window. It looked like he was in a plush, king-sized bed, in a luxury suite, if the sitting room he could see through the open door Viktor had left through was any indication. There was another door open to an extravagant bathroom that looked bigger than Yuuri’s own standard double room. He looked down to find himself in his navy boxer briefs under the dress shirt he’d worn to the banquet last night, unbuttoned, with one dark sock. He wondered where his tie and jacket were, where his other sock went. He wondered where his _pants_ went. He was sitting in Viktor Nikiforov’s suite, in _Viktor Nikiforov’s bed_ , where he’d apparently just spent the night with his soulmate.

 _Viktor Nikiforov_ was his _soulmate_. Yuuri didn’t know how long he sat there in shock, trying to come to terms with the fact. It was undeniable, the melding glow impossible to fake. He was sure he’d be panicking if he didn’t have the mother of all hangovers. Well, panicking more, considering his rather spectacular falling (flailing) off the bed earlier. He strained his brain trying to remember the night before, but everything was hidden behind a blur of bubbles. He thought he caught a fleeting memory of dancing but wasn’t certain.

Viktor popped back into the room, startling Yuuri out of his thoughts. He’d donned a fluffy hotel robe and slippers while he was gone. “Sorry it took so long, Yuuri; I had to hunt down some paracetamol.” He twisted the top off a bottle of water and placed the chilled drink in Yuuri’s hand, then opened a packet and shook two tablets into the other. Yuuri gulped greedily, gratefully, and obediently took the pills. Viktor murmured, “There you go. Now, I think you need some more rest,” before gently taking off his glasses and setting them back on the nightstand. He helped Yuuri get situated under the covers, slipped off the robe, strode over to the window in all his nearly-naked glory to shut the curtains, and then slid into the bed beside him.

The water had helped, or maybe the shock was just wearing off. Yuuri felt more alert, more aware, more accepting, too, perhaps, of the idea that Viktor was his soulmate. He turned to face the other man. “V-Viktor?”

Viktor turned to him, a slightly strained smile on his face. “Yes, Yuuri?”

He reached out a hand to brush Viktor’s bangs back, watching violet trail across the pink glow on his beautiful face. Viktor leaned into the touch, his smile becoming more genuine as he literally lit up, his glow brightening as Yuuri’s fingers stayed in his hair, unable to keep himself from playing with the silky silver strands. “Um, we’re soulmates.”

Viktor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled and nodded.

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Yes, I think we’ve established that, Yuuri,” came the laughing reply. Viktor’s hand came up to play with Yuuri’s hair, too.

Yuuri blushed, unsure if it was in response to Viktor’s gentle poking fun or the hand carding through his hair. “And we met last night? At the banquet?”

Viktor’s hand stilled, the smile slipping off his face in response to Yuuri’s tentative questions. “Yes? Yuuri, are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?”

“No!” _Ouch._ He tried again, softer. “No, I just— Um, I had some champagne last night. _A lot_ , I think, because I can’t really remember?”

He watched Viktor’s face fall and his glow dim. “Oh.”

“Y-yeah.”

Viktor’s hand drew back, his expression calm and composed, eyes shuttered.

Yuuri tensed, his own hand unwittingly tightening in Viktor’s hair. _Ugh_ , he felt like death warmed over but he didn’t want to see Viktor look like that, like he was wearing a mask over the flash of hurt Yuuri had seen just a moment ago.

He started babbling nervously. “I’m sorry, I wish I could remember. Who wants to forget meeting _you_? Or meeting their soulmate. I-I was so embarrassed and ashamed of my performance and I didn’t want to meet _you_ like _that_ , after that. I didn’t even want to go to the banquet, I wanted to leave early to go see Vicchan, but Coach Celestino made me go. I had a couple drinks to take the edge off and then my memory gets fuzzy…I think I remember dancing, maybe? I’m really sorry, Viktor, I know I’m a terrible drunk and I don’t kn—”

“Yuuri. Yuuri, it’s okay. Breathe.” Viktor gently pried Yuuri’s hand from its death-grip in his hair.

Yuuri gasped in a breath, back to looking at his hand in Viktor’s, calmed by the touch and the glow. He took another breath, then another, much more even this time, and said, “Can you— Do you maybe want to tell me about it?”

Viktor untangled their hands and turned away, leaving Yuuri’s heart in his throat and pounding in his ears. Viktor soon turned back, phone in hand and a small, soft smile on his face. “Why don’t I show you?”

Yuuri hesitantly returned the smile. “O-okay.”

They propped themselves up on the pillows, leaning toward each other so they could both see the screen. Yuuri could hardly believe his eyes and ears, growing more and more embarrassed as Viktor thumbed through the photos of him, of them, and recounted the events of the night. He first saw he’d moved from flutes of champagne to drinking straight from the bottle, groaning and blushing at the image, but that was just the beginning. He’d challenged Yuri Plisetsky to a dance off and won handily, of course. Like he would ever lose a dance battle to anyone less than a professional, even drunk off his ass—dancing was in his blood. Next, he’d danced with Chris. On a pole. Nearly naked, their glowing bodies on display for all to see as they pulled off some complex poses together. _Huh._ He’d still had both socks at that point. _Where did Chris even get a pole…?_ He shook his head at the thought; some questions were best left unanswered. Viktor assured him he’d won that battle, too, which was no surprise.

Finally, he’d danced with Viktor, thankfully clothed again. Someone else must’ve had Viktor’s phone, because he could see their dance progress, bodies drawing ever closer, ending in the very moment they lit up for the first time together. Yuuri had dipped Viktor, both smiling wide, the violet glow spreading across Viktor’s jaw and cheek when Yuuri cupped his face and skin finally met skin. Viktor’s voice grew soft at this point. “I didn’t even realize it at first, just saw your glow and thought again that it was such a pretty color. People had been shouting at you all night so I tuned them out. But then your eyes went wide and you almost dropped me, and when I grabbed your hand, I saw it, too.”

Yuuri listened in wonder as Viktor told him how they’d stopped dancing and stared at each other in amazement, accepting congratulations from all around before leaving the banquet together, hand in hand, admiring their glow, headed for somewhere more private. _Wow._ Just as Yuuri had always daydreamed but now couldn’t remember. At least his hazy memories of dancing were correct. He tuned back in to Viktor’s soothing voice as his soulmate scooted closer, realizing that they were practically cuddled up against each other again, almost getting distracted by their glow once more.

Somewhere private had turned out to be Viktor’s suite, partly because Yuuri couldn’t remember his room number. Yuuri had insisted he was too hot, Viktor barely keeping him from stripping in the elevator but not from leaving a trail of discarded clothing from the suite entrance to the bedroom. Viktor chuckled as he told him how he hadn’t wanted to let go of Viktor long enough to take his shirt off, apparently obsessed with the glow of their entwined hands last night, too. By the time Viktor had gotten Yuuri settled in the bed, the thought had left him, Viktor had gotten more comfortable, and they ended up just holding each other, talking until they fell asleep.

“…and then I woke up to you looking down at me.” Viktor fell quiet, but it wasn’t the tense silence of earlier.

He couldn’t believe he did all that; would have a very hard time even now, in fact, if there wasn’t incontrovertible evidence to back up Viktor’s story. He was still surprised he wasn’t more awkward, more nervous, then and now. He supposed there was some merit to all those stories saying being with your soulmate just felt right. Viktor’s voice jolted Yuuri out of his thoughts once more.

“I was thinking we could rearrange our flights, head to Hasetsu. I know you want to see your family and Vicchan.” A little laugh broke through. “I still can’t believe you named your dog after me! What an honor. But I’d love to meet them and you might as well stay in Japan until your nationals. I’ll have to leave a little earlier for mine, but we’ll still have a few weeks to figure out what we want to do.”

 _Oh God._ He’d apparently told Viktor everything last night. At least he wasn’t offended. “That sounds good. Let me call Celestino and make sure he’s ok with it.”

“Oh, yes, and I’ll tell Yakov.” Viktor seemed to say it as an afterthought.

Celestino picked up on the second ring. Yuuri’s coach had no problem with the change of plans, understanding that he needed some time with his family and his newly found soulmate, and agreeing to coach him via video for the next few weeks. Viktor texted his own coach while Yuuri was on the phone, his own ringing as soon as the text sent. Viktor ignored it, then again, until Yuuri had hung up and it became apparent that Coach Feltsman wouldn’t stop calling. Yuuri could hear Viktor’s coach shouting even though it wasn’t on speaker as soon as Viktor answered, but Viktor just cheerily spoke to him in return.

“Is everything ok?” Yuuri asked apprehensively after Viktor ended the call.

“Fine, everything is fine! Yakov just likes to yell. It’s how he shows his love.” Viktor’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I told him I probably didn’t even need to practice for nationals, so now that I agreed to send him video from your home rink every day, he’s agreed with me going ‘on vacation.’ Now, you cancel your flight and I’ll book new ones to Japan. We’ll stay at your family’s hotel, right?”

 _Well, it’s not a hotel, per se, but,_ “R-right! But you don’t have to—”

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. Let me take care of the flights and you can figure out the rest.”

And he did, listening with half an ear from his call home while Viktor charmed the airline and booked first class tickets to Fukuoka the following day. He didn’t tell his mother much, just that he’d be coming home and bringing a guest—he would rather tell his family everything in person. They both hung up and Yuuri took care of buying their train passes online. He’d have to text Mari their travel times so she could pick them up…

He felt Viktor watching him as he finished and quirked an eyebrow in a silent question, despite the blush he could feel rising. Viktor just grinned, pulling him close, tucking Yuuri’s face into his bare chest where it heated even further. “Now, I think we need to finish sleeping off the effects of last night, hmm?”

Yuuri’s response was muffled by Viktor’s impressive pecs. He wasn’t protesting; Yuuri was tired, exhausted even, but he didn’t want this moment to end. He’d finally found his soulmate and it was Viktor of all people, much more real, much more irreverent of his coach and skating, a much bigger dork, than he’d ever imagined. Viktor wasn’t an unattainable goal, the epitome of perfection on a pedestal, but was still perfect and was all his. Yuuri pressed his smile into Viktor’s smooth skin, wrapping his arms around his soulmate and feeling Viktor hug him tighter in return. He drifted for a while until he heard Viktor’s breathing even out, felt his body grow lax as sleep took him. Yuuri soon followed, dozing off with a new hope in his heart and a new glow behind his closed eyes.


End file.
